


To Love Is To Know

by Teenwolfbean



Category: Larry - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bible Quotes, Cute Louis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Especially the gay ones, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Eventually though, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Feminine Harry, Feminine Harry Styles, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Gay Parents, God loves all his children, Homophobia, How Do I Tag, Hurt Harry Styles, Hurt/Comfort, I Ship It, I know my Bible, I like the gays, I will try to write smut, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Late Night Conversations, Lesbian Moms, Louis has two moms and they are cute, Love Confessions, Maybe Harry is non-binary?, Maybe he is non-binary because I am and it makes me feel better, Mild Smut, Religion, Religious Conflict, Sad Harry Styles, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sexual Identity, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Supportive Harry, Supportive Louis Tomlinson, Use the Bible to kill the homophobes, dont judge me, end homophobia 2020, i havent decided, larry stylinson - Freeform, love is love, supportive parents, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teenwolfbean/pseuds/Teenwolfbean
Summary: Louis was pretty. Harry thought that it was strange for a boy-man- to be pretty. Sure, he had seen men who were hot or handsome or even sexy, but Louis was beautiful. He was built rather delicately; his wrists were slim, and he reached just above Harry’s chin. His eyes were large and his features sharp, yet they became so soft when he smiled or laughed; he was pretty. Not that Harry thought Louis was particularly feminine, he simply seemed at ease in his body unlike Harry himself. Harry was drawn to the idea of being beautiful, he had always made sure to present traditionally masculine, but when Louis allowed himself to be pretty, it made Harry long in a way he could not explain.//Or a fic about self-discovery, complicated scripture, falling in love, and friendship that heals.//
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Original Female Character(s), Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, larry - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> A new fic about the loves of my life Harry and Louis.  
> I plan to update once a week! If you have any questions feel free to ask away.
> 
> I WILL COME BACK TO THIS VERY SOON I AM JUST VERY BUSY WITH WORK AND MY CUTE BUT DUMB STUDENTS 
> 
> I know religion is a sensitive and hard topic to write about, but I'm gonna do my best. (I have studied religion and also done a final project on Christianity so I hope it's enough.)  
> Also English is not my first language so you know it is difficult sometimes:))

1\. Beloved

The church was small. The benches were cramped together in the tight space; even the faintest sound would be heard by everyone attending mass. An old woman coughed, and more than a few heads turned to see who disturbed the pastor. She wore an apologetic look on her face, but she was elder, weaker, which made her easier to forgive.

Harry suddenly thought about how humans were truly not allowed to be bodies at church; the divine and the humane was never to meet, so one had to crumble into a silent creature. God-fearing.

Harry’s eyes fell on two large candles stood at the altar, they cast long dreary shadows across the lime floor. Paintings were scattered on the church walls in no particular pattern, and only a few rays of sunlight escaped through the thick glass windows, on which scraps of old glass paintings were left. A memoir of the beauty the church once was. The church smelled like stairwells and old wood, which had a nostalgic taste to it, but Harry could not figure out whether he liked it.

“…And if you will stand with me to say the Creed.”

The pastor gestured with his arms, and people shuffled to stand up and fold their hands. Harry´s hands felt numb from having been tightly intertwined for the past 45 minutes, he gave them a slight shake and squeezed them together again.

“We believe in God, the Father…”

Harry’s mother spoke loudly beside him, her voice irritating his ears after a while of silence. _We need to make a good first impression_ , Harry heard her say in his head, _we will not be new and clumsy, Harry_.

The church they used to attend back home had a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the pastor often had to speak into a small microphone attached to the side of his head. This church almost made you feel shame for breathing, it made you want to confess sins you had not even committed. _Where is the glory?_ Harry thought, _where is the light?_

Harry’s mother gently slapped his right wrist, trying to get him to focus on the words of the Creed. He bowed his head and mumbled along, shivering from the loud echo of voices in the small space.

After mass Harry and his mother went to introduce themselves to the pastor. He had short, what seemed to be home-cut hair and small brown eyes. His nose was delicate and did not fit his broad face. He smiled at them, welcoming, his sharp teeth showing under the pale lips.

“You must be Harry and Anne,” he said, looking between the two.

Harry stepped on his own feet and bit his lip, as he reached out to shake the pastor’s hand.

“Yes, pastor,” Anne started, “and I am much too grateful that you took the time to respond to my emails.”

“No problem at all, I am merely glad to welcome new people to the church.” He widened his smile and nodded. “also, I can understand the importance of choosing the right church in a new place.”

“Yes,” Anne said, “the one across the street seems… rather fun,” she finished, raising her eyebrows at the pastor.

The church across the street would catch anyone’s eyes; it was not much bigger than this one, however, it had huge glass windows in the roof, and a multitude of colorful flags decorated the outside walls. Harry would have never guessed it was a church if it had not been for the crooked letters above the entrance which said: _Holmes Chapel United Reformed Church_.

“Ah yes. They are fairly modern,” the pastor winked at Harry, “not really our style.”

Harry assumed he was referring to the flags, Harry did not recognize all of them, but the rainbow pride flag he did - he figured the rest were various pride flags as well.

“They’re evangelic,” the pastor noted, as would it explain everything.

The cold autumn air welcomed Harry as he stepped out, it toyed with his out-grown curly hair and blew through his light coat. He took a deep breath through his nose, the temperature, the weather was not much different from home. _This is home_ , Harry, _his mother snapped in his mind, this is where you were born, where I and your father met_.

Harry stared at the church across from them with curiosity, he wondered what the obvious display of support toward those people, as his mother called them, was about. He skimmed the building and confirmed his initial thought: it did not look like any churches he had even know. However, he spotted some scripture beneath the church name, which caught his interest:

_1 John 4:7_

_Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God, and every one that loveth is born of God and knoweth God._

Harry knew it, he had heard it in a few different contexts, never next to pride flags, though, that was certainly a first. To love is to know God. Harry chewed the inside of his cheeks; it was so simple, too simple, and he could not let himself believe in simple things. _Simple things are for simple people_ , his grandmother often told him, _and we are not simple people in this family_. And as if had his mother snuck her hand into his head and stolen his thoughts, she lets out a huff and said:

“That seems oddly simple, even horrible people probably love someone, doesn’t mean they are children of God, does it. Probably taken out of context, it is.”

Sunday evening was strange to Harry. It was a vast space between weekends and weekdays, it came with the warning of reality that awaited people. On weekends people dreamed of the life they strived after; they planted flowers in the near-dead gardens, ate family supper, and drank hot tea in the afternoon with a book they had been reading for months on their laps. Harry liked to think of Sundays as a window to real desire; like the way, his mother spent an hour applying eyeshadow before church, or the pancakes she slowly cooked and the dishes she left for later. Harry’s mother lived within the vast space and found joy in it. Harry spent too much time thinking about it.

The two ate sweet potato wraps for dinner and shared half a bottle of wine, which Anne never let Harry have on weekdays, and discussed how the guest room should be decorated. It was calm, they existed together in the space, and Harry’s mind was still; only filled with ideas for wall art and paint samples.

Monday morning soon came, and the nervous pit in Harry's chest grew larger, and almost made it impossible to eat his toast, while his mother rambled about her new job. Anne worked for a law firm, and though she did not exactly stand in court or anything, it made a good living for the two of them, and Harry always thought she was content with her job. Anne was so unlike Harry about changes and was excited about their new beginning in Cheshire, and she had gladly chatted with everyone they bumped into, trying to make herself know around town already.

“Can you recommend a place for lunch?” She had stopped a young woman to ask.

“Do you know whether the library is any good?”

A poor elder man had been forced to give details about the various books the library contained.

Harry knew she was only reaching out to strangers to get to know people, she already knew places around here. Harry envied his sister, Gemma, who was away at uni in Dublin, probably living her best life free from the chains of their mother and her social-butterfly ways.

“Have a lovely day at school!” Anne shouted before Harry closed the door, and he was left alone in a town that might as well have been another planet to him.

A bold middle-aged man introduced Harry to his new class, which, if Harry was being honest, looked quite similar to his old class back home. Tired teens with mostly pale skin and light brown har, who looked as if they would rather be anywhere else.

“This is Harry who has just moved from Northern Ireland -”

“Uh Irish!” A kid shouted, making his classmates whistle and laugh.

“I was actually born here,” Harry explained shyly, and he noticed a few faces fell at the sound of his far-from-Irish accent.

“Anyway,” the teacher said, looking tired, “Harry will be joining your class, and Irish or not, you will give him a good impression of our school.”

Harry walked awkwardly to a seat in the front row, he felt taller than usual, and his shoulders suddenly appeared comically wide to him at that moment. He sat next to a boy with blue eyes and brown hair styled in a fringe that covered half his forehead. He wore a colorful red shirt and black trousers and had a cross necklace having from a leather string around his neck. Harry let out a breath.

“I like your necklace,” Harry whispered to the boy, his cheeks bright red and heart-pounding even into his fingertips.

“Ah thank. Courtesy of mom number one.” The kids held up one finger and flashed a smile showing his slightly crooked teeth.

Harry liked them like that, he thought.

Harry wanted to ask what on earth “mom number one” meant, but the teacher started speaking Spanish at a pace that forced Harry to look at his lips, just to follow just half of the words.

The class went by rather smoothly, Harry learned that the boy next to him was Louis, the one next to Louis was Niall, and the two behind them were Liam and Zayn, who kept whisper fighting about which brand of cup noodles was best throughout the entire lesson.

They all quickly introduced themselves while the teacher hurried to the teacher's lounge for more coffee.

“we’re the cool gang,” Zayn, who had grand hazel eyes and a sideways smile and smelled faintly of the mint tea sat on his desk, said, and wiggled his eyebrows.

This made all the other boys laugh and shake their heads. Harry took this to mean that they were in fact not cool, which was fine, Harry was not cool either.

Louis was silent for most of the class, occasionally he would smile at Harry and pull a funny face. He also drew a butterfly with purple wings and a neon pink body on his notebook, which made Harry giggle softly. Louis had somewhat small hands, and a rainbow bracelet on both wrists, which made Harry wonder if he attended the other church. He chose to ignore it for now, because Louis was sweet and fun from what Harry could tell, and he also had a fringe that was not really in style anymore, which all made him seem like someone Harry would want to be friends with.

Lunch came soon and Harry was invited to sit with the boys at their "cool gang table", which was honestly the least cool thing every said by any human, and he was so very grateful still. He positioned himself between Louis and Niall, and followed the boys interactions with his eyes. They were all warm. Red hot cheeks, soft shirts, and fluffy hair - warm was really the only word that fitted. 

"So how come you moved back here then?" Louis turned toward Harry, who was slightly startled.

"My mum´s work, mostly," Harry said, not feeling like handing a bunch of almost-strangers his entire background story.

"What does she do, then?" 

The boys were all giving Harry their attention. The room smelled of chips and overly steamed vegetable, it sparked anxiety in Harry, it was all unfamiliar. 

"She does like work for law firms. Paperwork and stuff," Harry explained quietly, "how about you parents?" he then asked, changing the subjects. 

Louis' eyes lit up and he seemed eager to give his answer:

“One of my moms is a priest at the United Reformed Church? The one that doesn’t look like a church. Other mom is a paediatric surgeon.”

And those few lines held so much that Harry´s knees shook, and he felt as though all air had been punched right out of him.


	2. The Spirit Of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry thinks a lot

2\. The Spirit Of Fear

Everything smelled off his mother's laundry detergent; sweet chamomile and some sort of artificial fruit. Harry curled his sheets around his face, a soft tune played from the kitchen, and outside the faint sound of rain drummed against the pavement. Harry felt as though he was breathing through a coffee filter, and he could hear each breath but not _feel_ it. He was an outsider yet again, staring down at this pile of person, a body he did not recognize. Sometimes being a living human was too much, too _weird_ , and being aware of that was like he was slowly suffocating.

When he was younger, he used to fantasize about waking up as a squirrel or a tiny bug, so he could crawl up high into trees and be nothing but a creature unaware of existence, unaware of the embodiment a soul suffered. Harry thought so much about the liveness of humans and animals that he had gone vegetarian at the age of 13, which his mom and grandmother had only accepted because it meant he would get out of bed and _stop_ thinking. 

"Isn't it for _girls_ , though?" His grandmother had scrunched her wrinkled face, "Boys need their meat. You will shrink into skin and bones"

He had not, luckily, shrunk at all, but had growth sprout and soon after stood 6 feet tall with lanky limbs and large hands. He was skinny, still, his mum had always made comments on how a _man's_ body should look, dress, eat, function.

Harry was made of fragments, pages that were stuck together from different stories, and sometimes he feared that they were not all coherent - that his fragments did not make a man the way they should. There he was; sniffing his sheets and listening to the rain, like a teen girl in an eighties film wondering when her love interest will throw rocks at her window. The entire world was spinning, it was out of shape and hard. Harry could sense it spinning; he was never in the same place for longer than the blink of an eye. 

"Harry, are you thinking again?" Anne stood at the foot of his bed.

Her hair was in a messy ponytail and the make up she had recently removed was stuck under her eyes like black clouds. Harry thought that she never looked more tired than when she was watching him. 

"It's sorta mandatory for people with brains mum," he said, mumbling into his bed, he could feel drops of drool on his cheeks as he spoke. 

"Don't speak to me like that, Harry, I'm just concerned."

"Sorry."

Harry forced his body into a standing position and went to hug his mother. Her clothes were damp from the rain and her hair stuck to Harry's neck when he pulled her in, but she smelled like his mother. She had used the same fragrance since Harry was little, and he would honestly despise it if she ever changed it. She smelled like sleep and long car rides and _mum_. It was in moments like this Harry was terrified of losing his mother, right there and then he would give up everything he ever wanted to keep his mother - be whoever she wanted him to be. 

"Any plans for the weekend?" Anne asked with a low voice, stroking Harry's messy curls.

"Yeah, I'm hanging out with a few guys from school." 

Harry had spent two days with Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn and was already invited to keep them company over the weekend. Furthermore, he was now part of their group chat, which mostly consisted of sharing memes, complaining about homework, and the occasional family update from either Louis, who had a million sisters, or Niall whose father said funny things in his thick Irish accent. Harry had soon figured out that Niall had been the one to cheer when Harry was introduced, even though he was from Ireland and not Northern Ireland like Harry. 

"Still not England, mate," was his only comment when Harry asked. 

He was more than grateful to them, though he would not tell them that - he thought that might be a bit sad to say, and he did not want to give them the impression that he was pathetic. Whether he was, he could consider later. The days went by faster than Harry had hoped, they were filled with new voices and laughs and warmth. Though Harry was shy and rarely spoke up, the boys were interested in him and asked plenty of questions, it did not seem to bother them that his answers were short and simple. Harry honestly did not know why they were being so kind to him, and what on earth he had done to make them _want_ to invest in him like that. He was too anxious to question it; he could not let the magic of new friendship disappear with his fear-ridden wonders. 

He had been invited yesterday. They sat on the grass outside on the football field, the green area covered in dew from the cool night. Sun rays danced across their faces, and Harry noticed suddenly that Louis' eyes were incredibly blue. His skin was pale, but a hint of the tan from the summer lingered on his lower arms, which showed due to the almost white skin where a bracelet had been. His cheeks were red and his eyes crinkled from the sun, his eyelashes long and dark, which almost made it look like he was wearing mascara. Harry felt nauseous and excited all at once. 

"Join us this weekend Harry?" 

Louis' voice was soft and uncertain, almost as had _he_ been afraid of rejection. The question barely reached Harry, but hung around the group in the air, as was it just as surprised by itself. Harry grabbed it, squeezed it into his chest, so he would not lose it. The grass, the sun, the blue was alit before Harry, and it made him wanna cry, though it was stupid and seemed like such a simple request.

"Happy to," Harry's voice said for him, and he was so glad to have a voice he could lean on it that moment, 

"Oh, that's so wonderful, Harry!" Anne's face lit up with joy and her eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. 

"Don't sound so surprised mum. It's kinda offensive." Harry could not help but flash her a bright smile.

Saturday came rolling around, and the happiness Harry had felt, was soon replaced with the familiar fluttering anxiety. Sometimes Harry wondered if his body knew anxiety so well that any other emotion startled his system too much. He felt at times like anxiety was safe, which was odd and hard to explain, but true nonetheless. Emotions were grand and beautiful and painful all at once, but Harry was awful at letting himself experience them and somewhere along the line, it had become easier to grow comfortable with just one. Sadness and anger turned to fear quickly, and eventually, happiness, joy and the itching feeling of peace did too, and Harry had no idea how to stop it. He no memories of a time before he worked like that; Christmas eve was never a night of excitement, but a worry of making the right face when he received his presents in the morning and wondering whether his mother would like his homemade mug or warped wooden spoon. 

Still, he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath in through his nose and pulled himself together. It was not a long walk from Harry's house to Louis' and fortunately he knew where it was, as it was right next to the church Louis' parents owned. The day was gray, and only a few colorful leaves broke the lifeless surroundings. It was silent and the air was crisp and could be sensed in his thought and into his lungs. It was nice, though, this way Harry could notice his body, his breathing, and focus on that. Rocks and leaves crackled under his boots, his steps long and slow. He must have looked peaceful, he thought, a young man on a walk admiring nature, a body in a world in a town on a path. He could go on like that, like in that children's song he could not remember what was called, placing himself in the grand scheme of things. 

Harry found Louis and a lean dark-haired woman he assumed was one of his mothers outside the church. Louis ran towards him and wrapped him into a tight hug. if he had not been so surprised by the sudden affection, he would probably have blushed like crazy.

"Hey Harry, you're pretty early," Louis said, but he did not seem bothered by it.

"Sorry," Harry cringed and felt too tall and present.

"Nah, man, no worries. Come meet mum."

Louis' mother _radiated_ joy, if Harry squinted he imagined he could see a bright yellow aura around her. She wore purple eyeshadow around her large blue eyes and a red lipstick that made her smile more apparent. Her dress reached her ankles where a pair of sparkly boots peeked out from under the fabric, and to add to her look, she wore a thick gold cross around her neck and a matching set of earrings. She walked toward Harry in almost _bouncy_ steps, and Harry could not believe she was a real person. 

"You must be the famous curly-haired Harry," she pulled him in for a tight hug and he could smell her sweet, flower-like perfume. 

"Um yeah," Harry offered a shy smile and rubbed his upper arm. 

"We're happy to have you," she winked at him, and soon turned toward her sun instead like she had picked up on Harry's she energy and wanted to give him space. 

Louis' hair was damp and a few strands of hair had escaped and dangled in front of his face. He wore loose-fitting jeans and a bright purple sweatshirt that Harry would _never_ dare wear around his mother. He looked like someone who knew and enjoyed the fact that it was Saturday, calm energy surrounding him and almost reaching Harry himself. Harry thought he was beautiful. Louis fascinated and horrified him all at once. Louis was pretty and sweet and had a mum at church, a mum with a _wife._ Harry knew he found boys attractive, he was not stupid or _deep_ in denial, but he knew he did not _want_ to. He was also certainly not supposed to it he asked any member of his family or any pastor he had ever met. Perhaps Louis' open and proud family should give him some relief, perhaps it should loosen him up - it did not, it scared him so much he could barely think about it. 

When Harry was 14 he met this boy Casper, who wore an eyepatch just because he liked the look, he had brown freckles on his nose and only right cheek, and he wore an elf's hat all through December. Once he made Harry laugh so intensely that he had choked on his lunch and had to go see the school nurse, and he always sat next to Harry in Spanish. Harry was probably in love with him, then, with his weird ways and freckled cheek and endless laughter. Harry let himself brush his hands under their desk and lean his tight against hip or steal bites from his sandwiches. It was insignificant, innocent acts if one never looked too closely.

He liked how Casper smelled of cheap boys deodorant from the drug store and strawberry sweets from his backpack, how he scratched his nose when thinking, and that he sometimes stood on only let whilst telling stories. These were details he should not let his thoughts linger on, he knew boys did not notice which deodorant other boys smelt of or blushed from pure fondness over small acts like nose-scratching. Harry and Casper moved within a dangerous area between lovers and friends. They never _touched,_ never kissed, but one day Harry came to school, and Casper was simply gone. His parents had moved away and left no traces, and this awful pit of guilt and shame had been growing within Harry ever since. He knew - knew that Casper and his family had gotten out before it stopped being insignificant. They had looked too close, perhaps.

He had known since then that he had two options: 

1\. Act on his feeling and figure out if he truly _was like that._ This would probably mean a huge conflict with his mother, his extended family, and perhaps the various churches he would attend.

2\. Never question it again and repress all feelings regarding the matter. He would avoid a disappointed family and a possible disowning or a future of long awkward holidays. 

The only problem was that neither one was an actual option, it was impossible to begin resolving. It was as if trying to understand who he was, would be like trying to stay awake on new years eve when he was only little. He wanted too so badly, he wanted to be a whole and complete person, but the clock was ticking and he had not drunk enough sugary drinks or slept at noon. His eyelids were closing no matter if he agreed with them or not. Harry was _sad._ He was so God damn sad, and it was pathetic and cruel but impossible and bottomless. 

"You coming, Harold?" Louis' voice broke his stream of thoughts.

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes at the nickname, was the whole deal with nicknames not that they were supposed to be shorter than your actual name. 

"Yeah," Harry answered and ran to catch up with Louis. 

He took a deep breath _F_ _or God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind,_ Harry quoted inside his head and left his thoughts behind.


	3. The Flowers Appear On The Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a movie night  
> Harry wants to be pretty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone like non-binary Harry or no?  
> Also do you like this story? I'm always open to suggestions

3\. The Flowers Appear On The Earth

The rest of the boys arrived soon after Harry, and Louis brought all of them into the kitchen to gather as many snacks as they could carry. Afterward, he led to way back to the church to Harry’s surprise, and into a large room that resembled a living room. Two fuzzy couches stood up in the middle of the space and an abundance of soft pillows decorated them. The walls were covered in posters from bands and movies Harry assumed Louis or his sisters liked, and a small projector hung from the ceiling above the couches, which pointed to a clear white wall.

“So, this is the Tomlinson crib.” Louis gestured awkwardly to the entire space with his arms, “my sisters and I share it for like film nights and stuff,” he explained to Harry mostly, the other boys seemed to be familiar with the secret room.

“Not very church-like,” Harry pointed out with the hint of a soft smile.

“God would want me to have a hangout space.” Louis simply said and jumped onto one of the couches, placing a pillow in his lap.

“Of course,” Liam said seriously and let out a giggle.

They all shuffled to join Louis and spread out on the large couches. Harry hugged a pillow to his chest and said criss-cross beside Louis. Harry watched him quietly as he held up a few films for them to choose between, and only nodded when asked whether he liked some dumb comedy or thriller. Louis was pretty. Harry thought that it was strange for a boy to be pretty. Sure, he had seen men who were hot or handsome or even sexy, but Louis was _beautiful_. He was built rather delicately; his wrists were slim, and he reached just above Harry’s chin. His eyes were large and his features sharp, yet they became so soft when he smiled or laughed; he was pretty. Not that Harry thought Louis was particularly feminine, he simply seemed at ease in his body unlike Harry himself. Harry was drawn to the idea of being beautiful, he had always made sure to present traditionally masculine, but when Louis allowed himself to be pretty, it made Harry long in a way he could not explain.

Harry shook his head as would it rid it of thoughts and tried to focus on the discussion Louis was having with Liam about Legally Blonde. Harry never watched it as it would count as a chick-flick and given the fact that he was not a chick, his mum never let him watch it. The only film in that genre he had ever seen was _The Notebook_ when he was home alone for a weekend last year with his grandmother, who went to bed early enough for Harry to have a few hours to himself.

“It’s a feminist _masterpiece_ , Liam. We need to learn.” Louis’ eyes were wide open, and he held the DVD to his chest like it could be snatched at any moment.

“Yes, Louis, it is, and it was when we saw it last month.” Liam looked like a tired father in the middle of an argument with his toddler.

Harry remembered a similar expression on his aunt’s face last Christmas when his youngest cousin insisted that they all watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the eight-time in three days. It made Harry smile to himself that Louis could remind him of a child.

“Harry!” Louis stared at him as he had just had an epiphany, “have you seen it?” He asked with a teasing voice like he has figured out how he would get his way.

“Uh, no,” Harry admitted and sent Liam an apologetic look.

“It’s settled then,” Louis rose from his seat and fist-bumped the air, “Harry also needs to learn.”

“Why do you like it so much, Lou?” Niall chimed in, speaking with his face pressed into a cushion.

“I relate to it. You know when we got to sixth form everyone was like: now you have to know what you want to do for the rest of your lives. And like just last year we were kids, what the hell is that about? And it’s kinda the same with Elle Woods because everyone has an expectation for who she is and then she defies it and does what she wants.” Louis explained, looking very somber.

“You did not just compare your regular teen angst to the life of Elle Woods, Lou.” Zayn raised his eyebrows at the boy.

“Yes, I did.”

Only a few minutes later Legally Blonde was playing from the projector, and though Liam had not gotten his way, they all looked rather cozy, munching on various snacks. Louis kept feeding Harry crisps from a huge bag on his lap, and Harry let him sip his soda in return. It was calm, it was the vast space being filled with nothing important yet so human, it made sense to Harry to simply sit there and nipple at crisps.

“That’s her boyfriend,” Louis pointed to the guy in the film, “we hate him.” He gave Harry an earnest look to make him understand the importance of hating the fictional boyfriend of Elle Woods.

Not far into the film both of Louis’ mothers popped by to say hello. They offered all the boys hugs, even Harry whom they had just met. Everyone appeared to love the two women and swarmed around them in admiration. They were wearing matching aprons with sunflowers across the waist and a front pocket on the chest, _very domestic_ , Harry thought to himself. Harry chimed in and complimented the aprons and Mrs. Tomlinson lit up like a Christmas tree and was fast to remember a quote: "The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land." She exclaimed and grinned at Harry.

"Song of Solomon?" Harry asked, recognizing the quote from his grandmother. She used it whenever she would have Harry and his sister work in the yard.

"Yes!" She almost yelled at Harry in excitement, "very impressive!"

It soon darkened outside and the conversation between the guys was calmer and with fewer words, every once in a while one of them would yawn dramatically and stretch their arms above their heads. Harry found it endearing to watch them, they looked young and comfortable, and all one wanted to do was cuddly them. _Especially Louis,_ Harry noted, he was swimming in an old blue sweatshirt and wore a beanie over his tangled hair. Harry blushed and snuggled into the blanket draped over his long body. _Breathe,_ he spoke to himself, his brain aching from tiredness and new impressions. 

Louis pulled out four mattresses and spread them out on the floor, he also got sheets and even more unnecessary pillows from a closet in a corner and made a bed on the far end of the couch. Louis offered Harry the couch like a gentleman, but Harry refused to take the most comfortable space, and instead got settled in on a mattress beside Niall. Harry had not expected this to be a sleepover, but the others seemed to be in a silent agreement, so he kept his mouth shut. Soon the room was quiet and Harry was unsure whether they were asleep or not. 

“I’m really glad I met you guys,” Harry told the darkness surrounding them.

The soft glow from the moon shone on their faces, Harry could faintly see smiles and a few “us too” mutters. The hum from the exhausted projector filled the silent space and outside the town was asleep. Harry did not know he had ended up in this secret room at a church with four boys he had just met, how he had spoken to Louis’ two mums like it would not earn great disappointment from his own family. Harry did not know why he was sure he belonged it this space. 

Sunday morning Harry awoke early to a muffled sound of music. Louis was awake and was watching something on his phone that made him let out small huffs of laughter. He looked up and caught Harry rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Ah damn, did I wake you?” Louis whisper-yelled from his mountains of pillows and blankets.

Harry shook his head and sent Louis a shy smile. He ran a hand through his hair which practically resembled a bird’s nest by now. Usually, Harry would sleep with tiny French braids to keep it intact, but he found it too embarrassing to braid his hair around the four boys – it was slightly girly in Harry’s opinion. They lay for a short while making faces at one another and mouthing words that, to be honest, either of them understood. 

Louis gestured for Harry to meet him in the hallway leading into the "hangout space" and made sure to grab both his own and Harry's shoes on his way. The hallway was lit by a few drowsy sun rays from the round windows in the church wall, and Louis' blinked from the sudden brightness. 

"Wanna come to the bakery?" Louis wiggled his eyebrows excitedly at Harry. And honestly, Harry would follow Louis anywhere at that moment. 

The autumn air was cool against their heated skin, and they shuttered the second they stepped outside. Louis slipped his arms into Harry's and mumbled something about body heat, and Harry had to spend all his energy remembering to breathe. 

The bakery was a wee sweet shop owned by a bright elder woman who stood at the counter and chatted with all customers who came in. Dried roses and chamomile hung from the ceiling as decorations and tickled Harry's neck when he made his way inside. Louis plucked a single rose and offered it to Harry with a cheeky grin on his face. Harry giggled fondly and accepted it with an awkward bow. Louis asked for some buns and politely spoke to the women of her morning and complimented the new decorations. Apparently, flowers from the ceiling was a new one, Harry rather enjoyed it. 

Soon they were walking back through the town when something caught Harry's eyes, and he could not help but freeze at the sight. Louis kept walking and did not notice when Harry suddenly stopped in front of a store window. Behind the neatly polished window was a mannequin wearing a yellow and orange skirt. The skirt was wrapped around the waist and stayed with an attached belt tied into a bow at the side. It was yellow, and what seemed to be orange dots, but when Harry leaned in, he could tell they were tiny wildflowers on the fabric.

“You like it?” Harry jumped when Louis suddenly stood beside him again.

Harry felt a blush creep up his neck and onto his cheeks. He did. He liked the skirt and honestly, he knew that he did, he was always drawn towards clothes like this. Once he had gone two hours away from home to try on a bunch of long soft skirts, wide-legged eccentric pants, and cool silky shirts. He realized this was what he had thought about when he sometimes looked at Louis and found him pretty, he missed feeling pretty himself, and feminine clothes had made him feel like it before. 

“What?” Harry answered quietly and tore his eyes away from the window.

“The skirt,” Louis pointed at the skirt right in front of them, “you like it?”

Harry did not know how or why but he was crumbling. He collapsed in on himself and stood frozen. He felt as though his insides were crawling out from his throat, his nose, and there was no air in the entire world. It was still and fast and his head was a balloon floating above them and the stupid skirt in the window; the world was not right; Harry was not right.

“My sister just has one that looks like it.” Harry managed to lie and turned to face Louis.

“Do you miss her?” Louis was searching for something, Harry could tell. He was trying to understand Harry’s reaction.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered.

It was not a lie; Harry did miss his sister. It was easier to breathe around the house when they were two against all the difficulties, especially when their grandmother had gotten significantly worse and their mother had been heartbroken. When Gemma left for UNI, Harry was forced to play the part of two people in a way; he had to be himself and do good and be kind, and he had to be the eldest and take care of everyone, cook and clean, and most importantly, he had to be there all the time. He could no longer escape to his room to listen to music or watch a dumb show – to just be alone with his thoughts. He had gotten so used to not having time to think or feel that it felt almost unnatural to be able to now. Moreover, he just missed his sister because she was sweet and let Harry pick films on Friday evenings when it was the two of them alone in the house. She listened to him talk about books she had not even read and never stopped his endless rambles and wonders. She was his sister in all the wonderful and annoying ways.

“Anyway!” Harry exclaimed and clapped his hands together, “better get going, boys are probably up by now.”

Louis’ eyes lingered on his face for a few more seconds, as if Harry’s features would suddenly reveal something deep from within him. Then he nodded and turned to continue down the sidewalk and Harry followed hastily.

“No way they are up though,” Louis giggled and nudged Harry’s shoulder.


End file.
